


Bits and Pieces of Reparation

by Slothquisitor



Series: Reparation [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Multi, bits and pieces, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:49:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 16,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6604477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slothquisitor/pseuds/Slothquisitor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are bits and pieces and prompts that don't quite fit in with the long fic. All of my related prompts for Reparation and the follower celebration will be here. There's no order, but the summaries will tell you where they fit in chronology. This is a Barris and Rosalie-centric piece that was part of my follower celebration. It falls between the events of chapter thirteen and fourteen of Reparation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Duties and Decisions

There was little in Delrin Barris’s life that hadn’t been decided for him. He was given to the Chantry at the age of twelve to continue the longstanding tradition of the Barris family serving the Maker. His family was a noble one, and that came with just as many chains as it did freedoms. 

It meant that much of what was expected of his siblings wasn’t expected from him, it had been a bit of a relief to be promised away to the Chantry, he’d had no interest in making nice with nobles and the affairs of a Bann. Once he was given to the Chantry his life was about following orders, not making decisions for himself. He wasn’t the type to complain or wallow. Being a Templar was a noble and good thing to be and he took his vows seriously. 

It wasn’t until it became apparent that something was wrong with Lord Seeker Lucius that he took his life into his own hands. Lucius had ordered a Templar to attack a cleric, dismissed the Right Hand of the Divine, and declared the Herald of Andraste a heretic and none of it sat well with him. He’d only been at Therinfal Redoubt two days before he packed up to leave. He had no intention of leading anyone away from the Order he had devoted his life to, but they followed anyways. He led a group of sixty or so under cover of darkness away from the ancient fortress and to Haven. Once he joined the Inquisition his life was more orders, but also more choices. And when the Inquisition was disbanded he fell into what made sense, agreeing to become a Seeker. More orders. 

Then, he met her. It was cliche, but he met her and everything changed. She was different than any woman he had ever met. She carried herself with more grace than many ladies he had met, something he never expected of a farm girl from Honnleath. But for all her airs of grace she was not one to shy away from hard work and she was kind and compassionate. 

He remembered the first time he saw her, really saw her, not in passing or as Cullen’s sister, but as Rosalie. She’d fed him broth when he was still out of his mind with withdrawal pains. Everything had glowed, her golden halo of hair and her honey colored eyes. He could look at her unabashedly and he had. She was beautiful. He wanted to spend more time with her. 

He began to wonder if his life did not need to be dictated by duty and the whims of others. Perhaps he could take his fate into his own hands, perhaps he finally had a good reason to. 

The night of the Firelight Festival he’d dressed meticulously hoping to find some courage in the night ask her to dance. He felt exposed, being in the great crowd without his armor. He stood with Cullen who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of Mara as she danced with Rosalie. He would have made some joke if he wasn’t just as entranced by it all. The way her hair bounced as she moved and the way she laughed. Maker, he loved the way she laughed. 

He took a deep breath and walked out to the dance floor approaching Mara and Rosalie. He stood their for a moment, wishing he’d planned out what to say. The two women looked to him expectantly and Mara gave him a knowing smile. 

“May I have this dance, milady?” he asked Rosalie. He held his breath and his heart thundered in his chest. 

She smiled brilliantly, “Of course.”

They danced and danced. She never made a move to leave, to stop and he wondered why when a woman as beautiful as her could have any man there that she chose to spend all evening with him. They couldn’t talk much, the music was far too loud for that but they communicated with laughter and smiles. 

They danced until the hour grew late and her head rested against his shoulder sleepily, “I should take you home.”

She looked up at him, her golden eyes tired but bright, “Alright.”

They broke away from each other and meandered through the darkened square. When they reached the road the only light was the peppering of the stars above them and the second moon in the sky. He wanted to take her hand, he felt shaky as he thought about the simple gesture. It was ridiculous really, he’d just spent the whole night with her hands in his, but this felt different somehow. 

They walked in silence as he sifted through things to say. Rosalie saved him from coming up with something. 

“My brother joined the Templars at thirteen. How old were you when you joined?” she asked, looking up at him through dark lashes. 

“Twelve,” he replied, “I was promised to the Chantry when I was much younger though.”

“Really? Did you have any choice in the matter?” she asked, looking sad. He wondered how much of her brother she actually remembered before he left. 

“No, but I didn’t mind. It suited me. There are a lot of things we don’t get to choose, did you always want to spend your days on a farm?” he asked. 

She chuckled, “No. For a long time I wanted to go on some grand adventure somewhere. Save the world. But I got older, and I think that someday I’d just like to have my own land, run it how I want.”

“That’s not really a grand adventure,” he said. 

“Isn’t it? I’ve seen people who’ve been on grand adventures. They lose almost as much as they gain. I’d be very happy without all of that I think,” she smiled. 

He smiled down at her, “You’re much wiser than most.”

She laughed out loud then, “Tell my sister that sometime, would you?”

They’d reached Mia’s house, a faint light glowed through the window. He stopped to face her, the light of the moon reflected in her eyes.

“Thank you for walking me home and the lovely evening,” she smiled. 

“I had a great time as well,” he said, hoping she didn’t notice how his voice shook in nervousness. 

She stood on her tiptoes and before he realized what had happened her lips were pressed against his. His whole body froze as if time itself had stopped. 

He’d kissed women before, was no stranger to physical relationships. But this kiss was different because it was full of possibility. He’d never kissed someone that there was more of a promise of a few moments with. But Rosie, he’d take a future with her if she wanted one. Would make sure she had land and a farm and anything else her heart desired. 

He kissed her back. She seemed to let out a relieved chuckle as he did and he wondered how long he’d been frozen in that moment. Maker, he could love this woman. 

Perhaps he wouldn’t become a Seeker after all.  

 


	2. Right as Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @poweredbycoffeeandwine "Congrats on your followers! You write beautifully, and It is more than gift enough! I would love to see Cullen x Mara getting stuck in the rain, or Mara needing to be taken care of by Cullen of you have time?? Thank you for sharing your work!"  
> Have some Cullen and Mara caught in the rain sometime after they're in a relationship. The Mara needing to be taken care of by Cullen will follow soon!

The weather was unseasonably humid for the time of year. South Reach rarely saw the humidity that was normal in other parts of Thedas. It was dry so often Cullen had forgotten what the humidity felt like despite spending nearly ten years living in Kirkwall. Everything felt sticky to him, his tunic, his hair, even running a hand across his forehead left him wishing for drier weather.

Mara though didn’t look bothered by the weather in the least. She didn’t cast a second glance at the sky as the clouds rolled and darkened above them. She walked along beside him, hand in his, and seemed to bounce. They’d been at Mia’s for the day, taking a rare day away from the clinic and it had done them both good. 

Cullen couldn’t seem to find the same enthusiasm Mara had for the weather, Maker’s breath it even smelled humid. And just as he cursed the weather for the umpteenth time the sky seemed to open up and rain tumbled down from the heavens. 

They weren’t far from the estate so he grabbed Mara’s hand and pulled her along the road, trying to hurry so that they wouldn’t end up completely soaked. She didn’t follow. She’d let go of his hand and stood with an astonished smile on her face, her head was upturned to the sky and her eyes were closed. 

“What are you doing?” he shouted over the thunder. 

“It’s raining,” she smiled and looked at him, moving her wet hair away from her face. 

“I hadn’t noticed,” he said, moving back towards her. 

She laughed, “It’s the right rain.”

He looked at her quizzically, “What do you mean by the right rain?”

“Ferelden doesn’t have the right rain. This...this is Marcher rain,” she smiled holding her hands out as water pooled around them. It was a torrential downpour and they were standing in the middle of it and Mara seemed to have no plans to leave. 

“I didn’t realize rain could be wrong,” he shook his head, spraying water that had accumulated in his curls. 

She smiled, “This time it’s not.”

“We’re soaked through!” he gestured between the two of them. 

“Yep,” she said happily closing her eyes again. 

Thunder rocked the sky again and Cullen shook his head. This woman. How she could find something to be thrilled about in this weather was beyond him. He moved closer to her, so they were almost touching. She opened her eyes when she sensed him there. He took her face in his hands gently and bent down to kiss her. Her lips were curled into a smile when their lips met. She tasted like the rain. Even after thousands of kisses, the touch of her lips on his still sent blood rushing in his ears drowning out the sound of the rainfall around them. 

She gripped the front of his shirt that was plastered to his skin and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. He nipped her bottom lip and was met with a contented sigh that left him wanting much more of her.  When they finally broke apart she smiled mischievously, “Let’s get you home and out of these wet clothes.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her again, “I like this plan.” 

 


	3. Sheep and Lucky Coins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @reaping-cain: "For the 150 followers thing! Hmm, well I really love how you write Branson and I'm sure that you're going to get flooded with Cullen x Mara stuff (which isn't a problem with me, as you already know hahaha!) Probably something so that we can get to know more about Branson, like what does he do, what was his initial reaction to Cullen coming home. Maybe something about when Branson was growing up in South Reach or thinking about his absent brother? Anything with Branson, basically. XD"  
> Here is some Branson reacting to Cullen coming home. Takes place the morning after Cullen arrives, so in tandem with Chapter 1.

The sky was a riot of color in the early morning light. Long thin clouds stretched across it in light blues and subtle oranges. Branson hadn’t slept very well the night before and he rubbed his eyes with his free hand as he walked. Henry walked sleepily beside him. He’d cried until Branson had relented and let him come along on his morning trip to move the sheep to their day pasture. 

David, his sheep mabari, padded along beside Henry. His tongue lolled out to the side as they walked and his long coat fluttered in the slight breeze. Henry was nearly as tall as David now and the two were nigh inseparable. Branson smiled down at his son’s serious expression as he walked towards the sheep pasture with his “crook”, which was really more of a small walking stick, in hand. 

He ran his fingers over the coin in his pocket, hoping that somehow that might help him process the events of the day before. His brother had arrived in South Reach and he still wasn’t sure he believed it. Mia had been chiding him for days not to make things difficult for Cullen when he arrived, not to give him a hard time, blah blah blah. 

He’d had very little intention of following her advice, but then Cullen had arrived and he’d looked so tired. The bags under his eyes were deep and he walked as if his limbs were heavier than they were. There was something in his eyes that he couldn’t quite place. The exhaustion was deep, far more than just from travelling and so Branson had held his tongue. 

He’d had a vision in his head of his brother, the Commander and the Templar proud and distant, but the man that arrived on the front steps of their home was haggard and so different than what he’d built up in his mind. 

The way Cullen had looked at them all, it was as if he hardly believed they were real. Branson wasn’t sure he wanted to be the one to shatter all of that wonder, even if he’d spent the better part of the last several years feeling bitter about his brother’s absence.. 

They’d had the chance to catch up, Cullen finally meeting Matthew and the kids. Henry had taken Cullen immediately, wanting to sit in his lap and talking his ear off. Cullen had looked a little lost all evening and Branson wasn’t sure why he didn’t find more satisfaction in that. He’d wanted Cullen to see what his absence had been like for them, to see how distant he’d been over the years, and yet as Cullen looked around at the strangers that should have been familiar Branson had felt the need to rescue him. 

Branson suggested they go outside and take the kids with them so everyone else could clean up without them underfoot. Cullen had agreed, following him out the door. The kids had chased David around the yard and he and Cullen had made polite but stilted conversation. 

Cullen became very serious after a few minutes and turned to him holding something tightly in his hand. “You remember the day I left for training?” Cullen asked. 

Branson did. Remembered how they stood on the dock of their favorite lake. The one they’d spent summers swimming in, where Cullen had taught him to skip rocks, and where he’d given him a coin as a good luck charm. 

“Yes,” Branson nodded. 

“Turns out this was lucky after all,” Cullen held out his hand and Branson felt the weight of the tiny silver coin drop into his palm. 

He’d been a little speechless as he stared at the same coin he’d given him all those years ago, “You kept it?” 

“Absolutely,” Cullen said. 

“I’m not sure it really was that lucky,” Branson said in disbelief thinking of all his brother had seen in the years he’d been away, how much all of them had. 

“It got me home,” Cullen said with the first smile that felt genuine all evening. 

Branson laughed, “Probably could have bought at least something with it.”

Cullen had nodded a little, turning his gaze back over to the kids and Branson clenched the coin tightly in his hand before slipping it into his pocket. 

As he’d laid in his bed restlessly most of the night his gaze kept drifting to the coin that sat on his nightstand. Twenty years. Cullen had kept that stupid coin for almost twenty years. He tried to reconcile that with what he’d been telling himself for years and years, that the reason Cullen didn’t write as much or as often as he should was because he didn’t care. But this small gesture, it shattered all of that and Branson wasn’t what to feel anymore. 

David barked and pulled him away from his thoughts. David was a clever mabari, more so than most and sometimes he wondered if the animal couldn’t read his thoughts. They’d reached the night pasture, the small enclosure the sheep slept in. It had a high fence that kept out most predators and he opened the gate to let Henry and David in. 

Farming was all Branson knew. He’d grown up on a farm and when he turned nineteen Mia and Matthew, who had been scarcely married a year, gifted him a parcel of land that was his to do with what he wanted. A few days later he got David and a few sheep and built his own herd slowly. It had been more than ten years and his sheep produced some of the finest wool in the county. He’d done well and still helped Mia and Matthew out with their crops in addition to tending his herd. It’d kept him close, which had turned out to be a blessing once Henry came along. 

As soon as they were through the gate David’s full tail was up and wagging in the air. David glanced back at him as he swung the gate wide so that the sheep could get out. He gave the mabari a nod and David was off. Henry chased after him, dark curls bouncing has he ran. Branson smiled after him, Henry might fancy himself a sheep mabari but the sheep rarely paid him any mind. It didn’t stop him from trying and usually making David’s job harder, but the mabari didn’t seem to care. 

David barked and ran behind the sheep until they began moving towards the open gate. He crouched down low in the grass, tail in the air as he watched the herd for strays. Each time he saw a sheep leaving the group he ran towards it and the sheep joined the herd. David followed behind the herd, crouching and waiting and running, it was the rhythm of their morning. 

Henry had finally given up returning to Branson’s side as he walked out of the night pasture. His son slid his small hand into his larger one. 

“I helped!” the little boy beamed. 

“You sure did!” Branson smiled down, “Are you tired?”

Henry nodded. 

He scooped him up tickling his sides and garnering delighted squeals from Henry. He deposited his son on his shoulders, his small arms reaching out and holding the side of his head as they walked. 

David was far ahead of them now, leading the sheep to the creek that ran through the day pasture and the large tree the provided shade in the heat of the summer. 

“Papa?” Branson felt the weight of Henry’s cheek rest on the top of his head. 

“Hmmm?” 

“Why is Uncle Cull so sad?” Henry asked. 

Branson’s brow furrowed at the question, “Why do you think he’s sad?”

“He just looks sad,” Henry hugged Branson’s head a little tighter. 

Branson thought for a moment, remembering the coin in his pocket, “I think that maybe he missed us a whole lot.” 

He didn’t have to be able to see Henry to know that his face was all scrunched up as he contemplated his answer, “You aren’t sad when you’re with the people you missed, papa.”

“Perhaps,” Branson squeezed Henry’s legs reassuringly. 

“Maybe he should play some more with David!” Henry offered. 

Branson laughed, “That’ll definitely help. We’ll head back after we make sure the lambs are eating lots. You ready to help with that?”

Henry giggled, “Yeah!”

Branson strode the rest of the way across the green pasture to David who sat watching protectively over the sheep. Branson turned over Henry’s words in his mind. He wondered if what he hadn’t been able to place in his brother’s eyes had been sadness. He reached for the coin again, running it over between his fingers, feeling the outline of Andraste that was stamped across it. Maybe the coin had been lucky after all, and maybe their family could begin to heal. 

  
  
  



	4. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @more-aoe requested #8. When they lean forward a fraction as if to kiss the other person, then realize they shouldn’t and pull back to stop themselves. For those following along with Reparation events occur between Chapters Thirteen and Fourteen.

They arrived back at the estate far too soon for his liking. They’d walked slowly, enjoying each other’s company, teasing and joking under the moonlight. And now as they passed through the gate Cullen felt a bit of disappointment that the evening was ending. 

Being with her was easy, like breathing. She smiled easily and her eyes lit up when she laughed. Her laugh had this melodic quality to it and he wanted to hear it more, wanted to be the reason for the sound. 

“So you and Bran practiced for weeks to beat her?” Mara asked, looking impressed. 

Cullen chuckled, “You should have seen the look on her face when I beat her.”

“If you were to battle it out today, who would win?”

Cullen paused, “You know, I haven’t sat down to a game with her. I should probably remedy that.”

“Then the rest of us can take bets,” Mara teased. 

He opened the front door, standing aside to let her pass, “Bets on a chess game, that might be a first.”

“Magic,” she warned before she lit the sconces with a wave of her hand, illuminating the dark house. She was always warning before she used magic, he wondered if that was something she had always done or a habit borne of living in a house full of ex-templars. She shrugged out of the jack and held it out to him, “Thank you.”

He accepted it, meeting her green eyes, “You’re welcome…I...uh...didn’t want you to be cold.” It could have been a trick of the light, but he thought he saw a blush creep across her cheeks. 

“I...um…” she stumbled over her words and looked away from him but she was smiling, “I should go to bed.” She began moving backwards pointing down the hall, not looking where she was going, and getting dangerously close to backing into the table in the foyer. 

“Mara….” he moved towards her as her legs hit the edge of the table, nearly sending her toppling over. He grasped her arms, holding her up. “Are you alright?”

She winced a little, looking down at the table she’d just run into, “I’m fine. A little embarrassed, but fine.” Her words dissolved into laughter and joined her. Maker she was close, she smelled like sunlight and trees and blue skies. 

His breath caught as he looked down at her realizing that his fingers were wrapped around her bare arms. Her skin was cool and soft under his touch. It would be only too easy to close the distance between them. He forgot himself for a moment, leaning forward towards her. She didn’t move away and her eyes never left his. There was a static buzz clinging around them as he leaned infinitesimally forward. He thought better of it immediately and pulled back. He reluctantly released her arms and put a safe distance between them before he made more of a fool of himself. 

“Do you think you can actually make it to your room, or do you need an escort?” He groaned inwardly when he realized how forward his words sounded. 

“Well, there is another table in the hallway, so I’ll call if I need help,” she joked. He watched her disappear, wondering how long they could keep up this careful dance around one another. He wished he could know what was running through her mind as he walked upstairs alone.  

 


	5. There's Enough Room for Both of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @omgcatlok: "Oooooh! Are you still taking prompts? 57. “There is enough room for both of us.” For Cullen and Mara please :}"  
> So Cullen and Mara are on a ship. I can't tell you why or where they're going because spoilers. So consider it a bit of a sneak peak :D

The ship pitched and it sent both Cullen and Mara grasping at anything solid to stay upright. Mara shut her eyes tight, willing the world to right itself again. When there was a momentary reprieve she opened her eyes to see honeyed ones reflecting back at her with concern. 

“I thought you said you didn’t get sea sick,” he said, his face was a shiny pallor. He’d spent most of the day heaving over the side of the ship and the waters had been relatively calm. Once night fell the weather had turned and they’d retreated below deck, he was clutching a bucket with his free arm for dear life.  

She took a deep breath, “It’s not that. I’m not overly fond of feeling like the ship might capsize at a any moment though.”

Cullen nodded, his knuckles were white from grasping the wooden beam that ran overhead in the small cabin. 

“Do you want more herbs?” she asked, offering him a small packet. She’d dried a mixture to help combat the nausea. Cullen had been less than pleased at the prospect of travelling by ship, but it was the fastest way to their destination and so they’d both agreed it would be best. 

Cullen nodded and took the small bag, reaching in and and taking a pinch-ful before chewing it. Mara looked at the two tiny bunks that lined the wall of the small cabin, “Top or bottom?”

Cullen raised an eyebrow, “You don’t want to share?”

“There’s barely room for you in one of these, and you want to try to squish into one?” she asked incredulously. 

They both swayed as ship rolled with another large wave, “Yes, and the sooner the better.”

She kicked off her boots and crawled into the bed, it was softer than she expected and it felt good to be laying down, safer somehow. It was sort of ridiculous to think that if she was lying down the ship might not sink, but she did anyways. She turned on her side, trying to make as much room for Cullen as possible. 

His warm body pressed against hers as he laid down beside her. He was warmer than usual, feverish from the seasickness. “Lift your head up,” he whispered against her ear. 

She complied and felt his arm slide under her head as the other arm was draped over her waist. He’d made a protective cage for her and it grounded her as the ship moved violently again. 

“See, I told you there was enough room for both of us,” he nuzzled the back of her neck. 

She smiled, “And when you roll over and fall off the edge you have only yourself to blame.”

He laughed quietly, “It’s worth it.”


	6. The Passage of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answering some lingering questions about Branson and his son Henry for @reaping-cain and @thesecondsealwrites who love Branson as much as I do.

He marked the passage of time differently now. For so many years it was measured in harvest times, Satinalia celebrations, the days since the last rainfall. Now he marked it with new words learned, steps taken, questions asked. Henry had changed everything. And he might not have happened at all. 

The morning had been as blue as the one he stood under now. The sun had scarcely begun to rise and he’d awoken to move the sheep. It was just a few weeks away from Summersday and the days weren’t blistering hot quite yet. He’d opened the front door to find a basket with a baby inside, brown curly hair peeking out. There was a note on top of the blue blanket the child was swaddled in, Branson Rutherford, was hastily scrawled on the envelope. He’d stood at the door for too long, crippled with fear. 

He’d finally regained enough of a hold on himself that he picked up the note and read it. There wasn’t much to it, the baby’s name was Henry, she’d left town, don’t go looking for her. No name. He didn’t need one to know who she was. She’d had long brown hair and an easy smile and they’d both been too deep into their cups that night to be bothered about being careful. They’d gone upstairs in the tavern, everyone else too invested in their own merrymaking to notice the two of them. He hadn’t seen her since, and hadn’t gone looking. 

“Bran, why is the door standing wide open?” Mia appeared at his shoulder, but he was still frozen on the spot staring down at the tiny bundle. 

He couldn’t speak, all words caught in his throat as he passed the note to his sister, waiting for her wrath. The quiet words that followed were more ominous than any yelling that might have come from her lips, “Bring him inside.”

He picked up the basket and walked to the table, setting the basket gently down, trying not to jostle him. He sat at the table, staring at the baby. Henry he corrected, his name was Henry. He buried his head in his hands and waited while Mia paced. 

He’d received his fair share of verbal whippings from his sister over the last few years, deserved a fair bit of them too. He tried to understand. After their parents had died he and Mia’s relationship had been complicated. They’d been left alone with their kid sister while Honnleath succumbed to the Blight. They had to leave, it wasn’t really a choice. They’d been luckier than most. Both he and Mia were old enough to work and their parents had some savings. So they’d come to South Reach and tried to be a family, well what was left of it anyways. 

“He’s your son?” she finally said, voice low. 

He looked up at her, “Yes.”

“You’re sure?” she looked more sad than angry as her eyes landed on the head of curly hair. 

He nodded mutely. 

“He looks like Liam, darker hair of course, but just like him,” she sighed. 

Branson looked back at the child. Henry. She was right. 

Mia sat down heavily at the table, looking like she’d aged at least ten years in the last half hour. She looked so much like Mum sometimes it was hard to look her in the eye. Everyone always asks if children are closer to one parent than the other, well he’d been closest to his mother. Especially after Cullen left. Their entire family had been supportive of him going off the training, well maybe not Rosie, but she’d only been seven. But as the years went on, his mother had cried her fair share of tears over Cullen. When she died all she wanted was to see him again, and Branson found it hard to forgive his absence after that. The only mercy in all of it was that his mother died before she could live to know just how much Cullen had abandoned the family. 

Mia leaned back in her chair and the noise drew him out of his thoughts. She stared at him, Mia had always been more perceptive than most and he was waiting for her to finally pass judgement. 

“I thought you knew better than this,” she said, blue eyes cold. 

He looked away tracing the grain of the wood in the table instead of looking at her, “I’m sorry.” And he was, he didn’t want to disappoint her, had believed things were finally going his way. He was going to move out soon, he was making plenty of money from his sheep herd to make it on his own. 

“I won’t raise him for you,” she said matter-of-factly like she’d just made some perfect move while she was playing chess and that made him so inexplicably angry. 

“I’m sorry, I must have missed the part where I asked you to,” he spat. 

Mia glared, “And what, you’re just to do it all on your own?”

“I don’t see that I have much of a choice, do I?” 

Her jaw clenched, if she hadn’t been angry before she sure as hell was now, “How are we going to tell your siblings?”

“You mean sibling?” he countered. 

Mia rubbed the bridge of her nose, “I am not having  _ that  _ argument with you this morning.”

“I really highly doubt the _acting Knight-Commander_ _of Kirkwall_ will give two flying fucks about this,” Branson pushed even though he knew he shouldn’t, his voice loud enough that the baby shifted. 

“You’ll wake him if you’re not careful,” Mia whispered with finality. 

He stood up moving towards the door. 

“Where in Andraste’s name do you think you’re going?”

He didn’t even turn around, “The sheep will still need to be in their day pasture, baby or not.”

He’d closed the door behind him quietly and went to take care of his herd. He’d never admit it to Mia, but he had hurried back. Henry had awoken while he had been gone, Mia was cradling him in her arms when he got back. Branson put him in his arms wordlessly and Branson had been beyond grateful for all the practice he’d had with Clara and Liam. 

It hit him then, with his child in his arms that his life was never going to be the same. He’d been terrified as he stared down at the tiny thing in his arms. Henry squirmed a little and began to cry and Branson looked at Mia helplessly. 

“Way ahead of you,” she handed him a bottle of milk. 

And just like that he became a father. 

It had been four years exactly. He understood Mia much better now, there were some things only another parent understood. He’d stayed at Mia’s house, it had made more sense. Henry could be close to his cousins and Branson could have help taking care of him while he worked. 

David padded along beside him, nudging his leg a little as they walked. David seemed to know the day was a special one too. He rubbed behind the mabari’s ears absently as they neared the sheep enclosure.

And with a smile he realized he marked the passage of time differently now. Counted it in milestones that Henry reached, the penciled markings on the doorframe that showed just how fast he was growing, and bedtime stories that had to get increasingly more elaborate to lull his son to sleep. He wouldn’t change a thing. 

  
  



	7. Reasons to Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from an anon who requested #10 of the kissing meme: One sliding their hand into the other's hair slowly. Rosalie and Barris, in tandem with Chapter 16, but before Gregory's death.

The night was deep blue, stars were just twinkling to life above their heads. In the days since the Firelight Festival it had become autumn and there was a chill in the air, a promise that winter wasn’t far away. It was Rosalie’s favorite time of year. 

Delrin was in the tall grass next to her. Everyone else just called him Barris, but she liked his first name. It sounded so noble and there was something in his seafoam green eyes that lit up when she said it that she would never get enough of. Their shoulders were pressed together, and by the Andraste he was warm. 

They’d snuck away after dinner to spend some time together. The only ones who might notice or care were Cullen and Mara and they were playing chess in Cullen’s office. Rosalie smiled at that, her brother happy, how she’d always pictured him. 

“Something amusing?” Delrin asked. 

“What?” she asked confused. 

Delrin angled himself towards her, “You were smiling.”

“There are a lot of reasons to smile lately,” she said taking his hand. She loved the way his calloused fingers felt interlocked with hers, and the way his dark skin contrasted with hers.  

Delrin leaned towards her, free hand reaching up to cup her face, “May I ask what some of them are?”

She rolled her eyes, two could play this game, “Cullen is home.”

Delrin moved closer to her, “Oh?”

“The harvest went well,” she whispered, resolve failing the closer he moved to her. She could feel the heat from his body, and the caress of his breath on her face. 

“Anything else?” 

“You,” she finally relented with a smile. 

He gave her a lopsided grin in response, “Was that so hard?”

She didn’t get the opportunity to answer, he buried his hand in her hair and their lips met. Each time they kissed she was left light-headed and dizzy, this time was no different. For being a warrior he was so very gentle with her. She’d never been treated gently, her older siblings were protective, sure, but never quite gentle with her. Their life hadn’t been conducive to that. Delrin looked at her like she was something out of a fairy tale. 

His fingers tightened in the curls at the base of her neck, drawing her closer and deepening the kiss. She brought her free hand up to grip his shoulder, urging him closer still. His tongue slid across her bottom lip and she let him in willingly, their tongues tangling together. He tasted the way he smelled, like armor polish and warmth. 

He pulled back too soon smiling down at her with so much affection in his gaze it would have made her breathless if she wasn’t already. 

“You are perfect,” he said, smile widening. 

She felt a blush creep across her cheeks. She’d never been much of one to blush, but he seemed to be able to coax it out whenever he wanted. She believed he took a special pride in that. 

He kissed her on each one of her reddening cheeks before resting his forehead against hers with a contented sigh. She believed she could stay in this moment forever. 


	8. I'm not Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt request from @poweredbycoffeeandwine who requested Mara needing to be taken care of by Cullen. For the record, Mara is like the worst patient ever. Falls sometime during the winter.

“I’m not getting sick,” Mara insisted. 

Cullen raised an eyebrow, if there was anyone who would try to make a cold go way through sheer stubborn will, it’d be her. He rolled his eyes, “If you say so.”

She glared at him, but the effect was ruined by the sneeze that immediately followed. 

He stifled his laughter rather unsuccessfully. 

“It’s all mind over matter. I won’t think that I’m sick; therefore, I won’t be sick,” Mara crossed her arms. 

He smiled, “That’s not quite how it works.”

“I’m a healer, remember? I know more than you.”

He nodded in mock seriousness, “Right.”

“If all you’re going to do is make fun of me, you can go,” she pointed out of the infirmary.  

He laughed as he went, casting a quick glance outside the windows. The world beyond them was white, and snow continued to steadily fall. When snow fell was the only time he’d known Mara to complain about the weather. She believed the snow had something against her personally and getting sick while it snowed probably wasn’t helping. Not that she’d ever admit she was getting sick.  

A few hours later Barris found him as he worked in his office. 

Barris looked a little amused, “You should come see something.”

Cullen looked at him quizzically, but followed him into the infirmary. It appeared to be empty at first glance, but he then he spotted Mara laying on the floor beside her desk. 

“Mara?” he asked shooting Barris a look. 

“Cullen,” she sighed, “I think I’m sick.” Her voice was nasally, clearly she couldn’t breathe out of it. 

He crouched down beside her, “You think?”

She looked so defeated lying there on the ground and nodded. 

“You couldn’t make it to a bed?”

She shook her head in response and he chuckled. 

“Let’s get you to your bedroom, okay?” he slid one arm under her legs and another under her back and lifted her up. She snuggled into his arms as he walked out of the infirmary and into her room. 

He laid her gently on her bed, he eased her boots off her feet and pulled the covers up to her throat. 

“So healer who knows more than me, what can we do to help you?” he asked with a smile. 

She threw him a half-hearted glare, “It’s just a cold.”

He smiled a little, “So?”

She rolled her eyes, “So there’s not much to do. I’ve got a tea that can help the sore throat, but it’ll pass.”

“I’ll make some tea, but you have promise not to leave the bed while I’m gone,” his words were met with a highly indignant look as if what he had said was outside the realm of possibilities. 

He bent and brushed his lips over her feverish forehead before leaving. Mara was always the one taking care of others as healer, he found it a little funny to see the tables turned and how upset she was by it. 

“Cullen?” a small voice called from behind him. 

He turned to see Mara sink back a little in the bed, “Maybe hot cocoa too?”

He smiled, “Of course.”

 


	9. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @mysdrym requested, "For the 150 follower prompt thing: how about Mia, Branson, and Rosalie when they first learned Cullen was going to be coming to stay at South Reach (in Reparation)?"

The letters had been more frequent, longer even in the past few years. Mia and Rosie were much better at writing than Bran was. He still wasn’t sure he wanted a relationship with Cullen after all of this time. But he wrote sometimes, and lately Cullen always wrote back. 

Bran mostly wrote about his day, anything beyond that was more than he really wanted to delve into with his brother via letter. Cullen wrote much of the same, sometimes he asked questions. Branson sometimes let a few weeks go by in between letters. But that was all, he couldn’t very well dislike his brother for not writing when he himself didn’t write. So he wrote, and it was superficial but it was there. 

The day started early at the Rutherford household, it was full summer in South Reach and the earlier you rose the less heat you dealt with during the day. Not that it mattered much this time of year. He was half paying attention to eating his own meal while making sure Henry wasn’t making too much of a mess with his. 

Mia sat at the head of the table and Matthew was working in the kitchen making egg in the holes with the last few slices of a drying loaf of bread. Clara and Liam were helping cut the holes in the toast and Henry kept whining that he only wanted to eat the holes. 

“Sweet merciful Andraste,” Mia said, letter in hand, her other hand was rested over her heart. 

Matthew stopped in the kitchen, “Darling?”

“Cullen is coming to South Reach,” Mia said looking up at her husband. Branson froze. 

“What?” he asked. He needed Mia to repeat the words, because they could not be real. 

“Cullen is coming here,” Mia repeated, voice choked with emotion. 

Rosie sprang up out of her chair, “Are you serious?” She perched herself behind Mia so she could glance over the letter. 

“The Inquisition is being disbanded. He’s got some land here and is going to open a shelter for Templars, to help them quit lyrium,” Mia said in disbelief. She kept looking at everyone in the room and then back down to the letter as if it might disappear or change. Anger swirled within his gut. All of the bitterness he’d held kept inside making the familiar rise to the surface. Mia hated when he said anything against his brother and so he held his tongue.

“Really?” Matthew grinned, coming around to her seat. 

“He’s coming home!” she smiled, tears springing up in her eyes. Matthew wrapped his arms around her. When they pulled apart he wiped the tears from her cheeks before kissing her forehead. 

She was laughing and smiling as Rosie gave her a hug too while Clara and Liam chattered excitedly. He felt as if he was drowning in all of the happiness in the room. Had Rosie and Mia been around for the same last twenty years as him? He hated that Cullen could just decide he was coming here and his sisters were just pretending everything was fine. He’d all but ignored their existence and now he was going to come here? Maker he hated him. 

Somewhere, a rational part of his mind knew he was being unfair, but he wasn’t sure he cared. He shook his head and walked to the door. He hoped that in the fresh air he might have a more level head about this, and less desire to punch his brother as soon as he saw him. 

“Bran, where are you going?” Mia’s voice called to him, punctuated with worry. 

“Out,” he replied flatly without stopping. 

David met him at the bottom of the stairs, the mabari clearly sensing something was wrong. He nudged his hand and whined. 

“Come on boy,” Branson said as he began walking, it didn’t really matter where, he just needed to be away from his family for a while. 

Cullen was coming to South Reach. It should have been enough. He remembered he used to stand alone on that dock in Honnleath, skipping rocks and wishing his brother would come home. But he wasn’t that boy anymore, and his brother had ignored them for too long to just come back and have everything be okay. Mia and Rosalie might be willing to let it all go, but he sure as hell wouldn’t. He intended to make sure that Cullen knew exactly what his absence had done to their family, even if he had to do it alone. 

David whined again and Branson stopped and looked down at the mabari. David looked at him sadly, as if his feelings towards his brother weren’t entirely fair. 

“What?” he asked the mabari, “You want me to cry and hug like Mia and Rosie?”

David looked away, as if he was annoyed with Branson’s attitude. 

“You don’t know him,” Branson whispered. 

David growled and seemed to say, “Neither do you.”

Branson turned back to the house, the mabari on his heels as his anger slipped through his fingers like sand. 

  
  
  



	10. Shatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorraine Trevelyan POV. How things ended with Cullen. ANGST.

Growing up, Lorraine Trevelyan had everything. She’d been taught that the world was at her fingertips, that there was nothing she couldn’t have or that the Trevelyan fortune couldn’t buy. As a girl she’d brushed out her long dark hair and believed her life would only get better and better. 

The Trevelyan and the Dormer family had been friends for generations. Edmund was just a year and a half older than her, and they were the best of friends. It seemed to make their parents happy, and while no official talks of marriage had been discussed, it was clear that the parents hoped their friendship endured into their teenage years. Lorraine thought she knew where her life was headed. 

And then she had nothing. 

Her magic manifested when she was ten years old while she was playing in the gardens with Edmund. It wasn’t traumatic or anything terrible, she’d gotten angry at Edmund for beating her in the game they were playing, and she’d shocked him. It wasn’t much more dangerous than rubbing feet against soft carpet and then touching someone, but this had unmistakably come from her. She was mortified, and Edmund had sworn he’d never tell. She only managed to hide for three days until there was another incident, but this time it happened in front of her parents. 

Her parents were nothing if not devout, and they turned her over to the Chantry immediately. Her beautiful gowns were traded for Mage robes, the grand estate she’d once called home disappeared in the distance as she traveled to the Circle. Suddenly everything she had ever wanted was inexplicably out of reach. 

Her and Edmund exchanged letters at first, childhood promises that he would come and rescue her someday. But as she got older, the letters slowed, and eventually stopped. She could never remember whose fault it was, just that one day she stopped looking for them. Her anger fueled her, the life that would have been hers had been snatched away by some twist of fate that made her a mage.  

The Conclave changed everything. Suddenly she was an apostate head of an organization the Chantry had declared heresy, and she spent her time closing rifts and helping others. She had to in order to survive, once her usefulness wore out she was sure she’d be returned to a Circle or killed. She had been incredibly slow to trust the Inquisition, it wasn’t until Corypheus revealed himself at Haven that she really committed to the cause. 

It wasn’t until they arrived at Skyhold that she realized that the Mark could be used to her benefit, and use it she did. She acquired powerful friends and allies, all on behalf of the Inquisition, but she acquired them for herself as well. She knew Orlais and Ferelden wouldn’t allow the Inquisition to last forever, but she would hold as much power as possible until that time came, and then she would live her life as she saw fit and not for anyone else. 

She'd been drawn to Cullen immediately, he was handsome and there was an air of the forbidden about him. The Templar and the Circle Mage. She’d flirted with him shamelessly, and then he’d kissed her on the battlements and she found herself in a relationship. She didn’t mind, she liked Cullen well enough. He held her tightly, loved her fiercely and made her feel wanted. And yet, it never felt like it was enough. 

She never felt guilty for telling him she loved him, what was love anyways? She cared for Cullen and that would be enough. She worked for his happiness as well as her own. She never felt any guilt for it, not until Edmund’s letters began arriving. 

When Edmund first wrote her she'd been surprised and it had been just friendly communication. But all of those childhood promises of love and ardor had surfaced, and then she began hiding the letters. She had loved Edmund once, and she believed perhaps he’d always held her heart. Perhaps that was why she couldn’t love Cullen. She had given Edmund up along with everything else when her magic was discovered. Becoming Inquisitor changed everything, and once she had defeated Corypheus she would have the power to shape her own life, no one would do it for her again. 

There was a certain relief when Cullen found the letters. She knew she had to tell him soon. She’d been so good at just going along with the clip of things though. She had invited him to move into her quarters just a few months before. It had seemed like the right move at the time, the normal progression of things that he would expect from their relationship. But she knew he was talking to Cassandra about marriage, and finally it felt like it was all too much. She’d always been careful to hide Edmund’s letters, but lately she’d allowed herself to be careless. She wasn’t sure if it was a conscious decision, but it didn’t matter. He stood in front of her, cradling them all in his hands as if they might explode. 

He had always looked at her like she was everything, had told her she was the best thing to ever happen to him. She knew the demons that haunted him from his past, and she knew he spoke the truth. That was what made it even harder. She didn’t want to hurt him. Cullen had been exactly what she had needed all these months, someone stalwart and brave to hold her while the world crumbled around her. He was a good man despite his beliefs to the contrary. But the world was no longer falling apart, and she was no longer willing to let her life be shaped by what others wanted.  

His entire body was tense and he looked at her so brokenly part of her shattered too. She could have lied, Maker knew she was practiced at that. Could have wiped his suspicions away, but was surprised she didn't want to. Cullen deserved better, deserved someone who loved him back just as fiercely as he loved them. Deserved someone who could make him happy. 

“What are these?” he asked, she could tell he was fighting to keep his voice level.

“Letters from a childhood friend,” she replied. She could have just told him all of it then, but she took the long way, the painful way. Drawing out the pain just as much for her sake as his. 

His Adam's apple bobbed, “It seems that his feelings are returned, or at least he writes as though they are.” His golden eyes were sad, haunted. How long had he been here, waiting for her to return so he could ask about what he’d read? She was sure he’d read all of them, wouldn’t have been able to stop himself. He would be feeling terribly guilty, and if she wanted to she could use that against him now. 

He wasn’t wearing his armor, had begun leaving it off more and more since Corypheus’s defeat. All of those worry lines around his eyes had softened in the last few months. Void take her, he’d been so happy she was alive. But she wasn’t living. Not really. So she pushed on, staring past him out the tall windows to the sun drenched mountains. 

She dug her nails into the plush chair backing until it hurt, let the pain ground her as she forced herself to be more honest with him than she had been in months, “They are.” 

A strangled sob left his throat at her answer, but he seemed to get a hold of his emotions quickly. She knew the question he would ask next, perhaps before he did, “Did you - do you…love me?”

She met his amber gaze, seeing the brokenness she was causing in the bruises in his eyes, “I wanted to.”

Tears pricked her eyes as she watched him process and then shatter, she wouldn't let them fall. Cullen had never been one of many words, not with her, but the silence compounded into something constricting, deafening. He dropped the letters he held onto the floor, she flinched as they hit the floor. Cullen turned to leave, not bothering to hide the tears that fell, and he looked so utterly defeated that she wanted to stop him. She didn’t. 

The next day his things were spirited away while she was out of her quarters, disappearing as if they were never there at all.

When she returned to her quarters to find them her own once more she didn’t feel the amount of guilt she should have when she realized she was breathing more freely than she had in years. 

She was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write Lorraine for a few reasons. First, to get into her head and understand what decisions she would have made as Inquisitor and how that would affect her wedding in Ostwick. Second, because I wanted to understand what it would have been like for her to break up with Cullen, she's not a good person, but she's not completely without a heart. Just mostly.


	11. Demon Sheep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About a year after the events of Reparation. Some Branson and Mara silliness based on a post of glowing sheep eyes that TheSecondSeal sent me.

Summer had been a fragile thing that year. Only becoming tentatively warm before slipping back into spring snow that fell heavy and wet in the morning, to be gone by the height of the afternoon. Mara wished for long warm days, but couldn’t fault the beauty in green mountain slopes still topped with snow. But that evening the air held a promise of warmer days to come, and Mara wondered if summer had finally truly arrived. 

She was walking with Branson down the quiet road away from Mia’s house. Mia had invited everyone over for a family dinner, something that was becoming more difficult as everyone spread out. Rosie and Barris had moved from the estate during the winter, to a little cottage in South Reach proper. It was nice to get everyone under the same roof, if only for an evening. 

Dinner had dissolved into a very competitive game of Wicked Grace, that only got more fun once the kids had been put to bed. But Branson hadn’t put the sheep into the night pasture yet, and Mara had offered to join him while Cullen tried to win back some of his dignity from Barris and Mia. 

The sun had long since set, and a moon hung bright as silver above them. David padded alongside them as they walked, tail wagging. 

“Cullen is really terrible at Wicked Grace,” Branson said with a chuckle. 

Mara joined him, “So bad. And I’m going to hear about it for the next week.”

“Just let him beat you in chess a few times,” Branson suggested. 

She did her best to look offended, “Never.”

“You two getting some good rest?” Branson asked. The clinic was between groups at the moment, that didn’t mean there wasn’t work to do, or that people didn’t arrive. It’d become more well known, in the last few months, many travelled simply to be healed, knowing Mara would take whatever they could offer in payment, a handmade scarf, a few eggs, she never turned anyone away. 

“Getting some work done on the house that’s been a little neglected, but yeah,” Mara said. 

“Not really rest,” Branson replied, and it was too dark to see but she knew he was giving her a severe look. 

“Don’t worry,” she promised. 

“Can I get a light?” Branson asked, holding out his unlit torch. They’d reached the gate, and David had already slipped in the pasture and was rounding up the sheep. 

“Sure,” she waved her hand, lighting the torch. And she was met with the white glowing eyes of over a hundred sheep. 

She let out a terrified screech, jumping back and falling on her ass, “Andraste’s tits, demon sheep!”

Branson was doubled over in laughter, the sung rung out brighter than the torch in the night, “Did you just invoke Andraste? Maker, you’ve been spending too much time with my brother.”

“Well he is my husband,” she grumbled, realizing that there clearly wasn’t any danger if Branson wasn’t afraid. 

“Fair enough,” Branson was still laughing, “Oh man, I thought your reaction might be good, but I didn’t think it’d be  _ that _ good.”

“I fucking hate you Branson Rutherford,” she said glaring at his outstretched hand, but taking it anyways. 

Branson grinned, “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“So what the hell, why the glowy eyes?” Mara asked, giving Bran a sidelong look.

“They’re demon sheep,” he replied straight faced, before she rolled her eyes and went ahead and laughed too. 

“A lot of mammals are that way, helps them see at night. Yours glow a bit too,” Branson said, the darkness hanging above them. 

“Elf thing,” Mara replied with a shrug. 

“Well there you go, sheep thing,” Branson chuckled. 

Branson opened the gate and the sheep began heading up the road, David running alongside. She and Bran followed them after closing the gate. 

“Andraste’s tits,” Branson said in a high pitched approximation of her voice.

She shoved him in response, “If you tell your brother about that I will kill you.”

“Oh I know,” Branson laughed.  


	12. Flustered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A request from Kagetsukai who wanted to see Cullen flustered. Okay, so I love the sort of pre-relationship pining sort of flustering. But you know what I love more? The flustering that happens when you’ve been together for a while. When you can still do something that is just the right level of perfect to fluster the other person. My husband and I have competitions over this quite often, and it always ends with ‘did I fluster you?’ And usually the response is a very guilty ‘no….’.

Cullen and Mara had settled into a schedule. They awoke with the sun, making breakfast together in their small kitchen, both of them sneaking Argos pieces of bacon when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Then they’d walk hand in hand along the well worn path from their cottage to the estate, through the doors into the infirmary where Cullen would press a quick kiss to Mara’s lips before heading into his office. 

Mara would get the reports from the night crew, if she was lucky there were few changes. If they weren’t lucky they already knew it, often being roused through the communication rune that Dagna had installed in their bedroom. 

Cullen would duck into the office, busying himself with the reports and checking supply lists. Argos would curl up on the chair they’d placed in the office near the window just for him, or he’d slip into the infirmary and doze under Mara’s desk. 

Perhaps to an outsider such an unvaried existence might seem boring. But both Cullen and Mara thrived. No two days were ever quite the same, and they both found so much fulfillment in their days. And that was more important than anything else. 

On a particularly slow afternoon Mara was curled up on the couch in the office, Argos’s head in her lap as she read through a book on new healing techniques. The office was quiet, aside from the scratching of Cullen’s quill, and Mara believed that there was no more perfect an afternoon than that. 

Mara looked at him working over the top of her book. His hair had grown a bit longer than he normally kept it, but he’d stopped working so hard to tame it, she saw golden curls more often than not these days. He’d let a day or two of scruff accumulate, as he often did before shaving it away again. 

He glanced up at her with a smile, “What?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head and returned to her book. 

“That was not nothing,” Cullen pressed. 

She lowered her book, “I guess you’ll never know.”

He sighed and lowered his quill, “You’re doing this just to bother me.”

“And it does bother you so much!” she grinned. 

He glared at her. 

“I was just thinking about how I think you’re more sexy today than when I first met you, and since it’s so slow we could head to the cottage and I could tell you just how sexy,” she said, quietly enough that no one would overhear even if they were in the infirmary or the hallway. 

Cullen’s face assumed a deep shade of red. 

“I….um…..well….” he rubbed the back of his neck. 

She laughed, “Don’t worry I can have Liza call us if anything comes up, but I don’t think we’re likely to see anyone coming here in this weather.”

She glanced out the window, the rain was steady and dark, then she looked back to Cullen who seemed to have gotten a handle on his embarrassment. 

“Give me a moment,” he murmured, voice low. 

She set down her book and stretched the legs she’d had curled under her body and stood, and Cullen caught her around her waist, one hand in her hair as he pulled her lips up to his. He kissed her greedily, molding her against his body. They fit together perfectly, and the familiarity was the only way to know this kiss from the first or the thousandth. Because her knees still felt weak, heart fluttering at the clear want in every movement of his lips, his body. 

When he broke away she was the one speechless, the one that felt a blush creeping across her cheeks. Her smirked at her, the scar above his lip pulling upwards, “Now who’s flustered?”

She palmed him through his breeches in retaliation, his breath hitched and he swore under his breath before looking towards the open doors in panic. 

“You,” she simply smiled before walking out to the infirmary. There was a moment or two of hesitant silence before she heard him and Argos follow, and she tossed a mischievous grin over her shoulder and was met with one of his as well. She wondered just how far into the cottage they’d make it. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @kagetsukai requested my rarepair, Rosalie and Barris, teaching the other something new. It has been SO LONG since I’ve written these two, and I’m so so glad someone requested them. Pssst... @halfblood-fiend also asked, but I’ve got a separate one coming later :) 600 words, Barris’s POV. Slight warning for chat about livestock and not fun farm things. Just to be safe :)

Barris had learned that Rosalie was never happier, never more free than when the sun was shining down on her. It illuminated her golden hair, kissed the freckles on her skin, and made her something out of a fairy story. Mornings like this made Barris pause. His life was so different than he had imagined. Not that he was complaining. 

They were in the sheep pasture helping Branson with his flock. Several new lambs had been born over the last few week. The lambs were small, some still learning their legs as they bounded through the green field. 

Rosalie caught a lamb as it bounded by her. It squirmed a little in her arms, but she handed the lamb over to his arms. “Hold her for a moment.”

Barris tried to keep the lamb still as it squirmed and bleated. “What are you doing?”   
Rosalie had a tool in her hand, and was gently pulling at the lamb’s long tail. “We have to dock them when they’re little like this.”

“Dock?” 

Rosalie’s tool slid something into place and she flicked the tail back and forth a few times to check it. “Okay, you can let her go.” 

Barris set the lamb down, and it bleated as it bounded away. Barris glanced to Rosalie with confusion. 

“The lamb’s tails have to cut shorter, otherwise they can get really sick and it can ruin their wool. So we just slide a band that restricts blood flow and the rest of the tail falls off eventually. Can’t do it when they’re too young, but you can’t do it when they’ve grown too much either,” Rosalie explained. 

There was so much Barris had never known about farming and livestock, he felt as if he was learning every day. “Doesn’t hurt them?”

Rosalie’s hands shifted to her hips. “A little, but not much. And it’s certainly better for them than the alternative. That’s why you do it when they’re so young, most of the nerves haven’t had the chance to form in the tail.”

“And that’s our job today?” Barris asked. 

Rosalie grinned. “Unless you’d rather help Bran castrate the boys.” 

“Oh no!” His response was so quick that Rosalie doubled over in laughter. 

“Really, they kept you pretty sheltered in that circle of yours, didn’t they?” she asked teasingly. 

They didn’t talk about it much, of before. They’d had the important conversations of course, but there was so much of his former life that didn’t seem to have any sort of place here amongst the fields and the sunlight. People weren’t meant to spend their entire lives in towers. 

He looked away from her, at the hills and the mountains in the distance. “They did.”

Rosalie’s face fell, and she moved closer to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

He cut her off with a swift kiss. “No apologies. There are a few things I learned there that you have expressed particular appreciation for.”

Rosie’s eyes brightened again. “Can’t imagine what those might be.”

“I’ll ask you the next time I catch you ogling during training,” he smiled. Maker, she made him smile so often. 

She looked like she couldn’t decide whether to be offended or impressed. “Delrin Barris, you are a constant surprise.” 

“Come on, if I’m sticking around for this farm life I’ve got to learn how to dock a lamb.” He meant it lightly. He hadn’t spoken much of the future beyond declining Cassandra’s offer to join the Seekers, but there was an answer in there and Rosie seemed to sense it too as she took his hand and pulled him toward the flock. 


	14. Things Learned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halfblood-Fiend requested something fluffy and domestic with Rosalie and Barris, but unfortunately this isn't really either of these things.

The sun was slowly falling behind the mountains, but the Summerday’s celebration at Mia’s hadn’t even slowed. The weather was pleasant enough that the kids played with David in the yard while the several of the adults played a game with wooden blocks and poles. Rosalie still wasn’t sure what the point of it was, but it was something Mara had been excited to teach everyone ever since she’d seen a set on a traveling merchant’s cart and promptly purchased it.

Rosie hadn’t played, had been playing games with the kids instead. They were mostly entertaining themselves for the moment, so she’d taken a seat on the steps, drink in hand. She watched her family, Matthew and Mia teasing each other from opposite sides of the game. She watched her brothers team up, and the way that Cullen smiled at Mara. 

A year ago she wouldn’t have believed any of it possible. That her brother would be home, and healing and happy. That their family would have grown in the ebbs and flows of the clinic, in the constants. That there would be so much heartbreak and pain, but also growth and hope. A year ago she didn’t know what she knew now. 

Oh Rosie had known plenty. She knew that life was complicated, and that it could be full to the bursting with heartache. One didn’t lose their parents at thirteen and not learn those things young. For all of Mia’s trying, she hadn’t been able to shield them from everything. 

But over the last year Rosie had found that life was more complicated than she ever believed. That it was more heartbreaking, and that there was so much pain she had never considered, never understood. She’d learned that duty was a cage, and that there was little glory or victory that came without sacrifice. 

Delrin didn’t speak of it much, and she didn’t press, but his life had been moving from one duty to another. There had been enough cages in Delrin’s life, and she refused to be another. She hadn’t brought up the future, of expectations. It was too soon to speak of forevers anyway, to make promises beyond the immediate. Maker knew they’d made enough of those.

It was as if her thoughts had summoned him, and ever polite Delrin stood a few paces away. “May I join you?”

She scooted over to make room. “I’d like that.”

Delrin settled beside her, shoulder touching hers. “Everything alright?”

Rosie smiled. “Yes, just needed a break after chasing the kids around.”   
“They are quite the energetic handful,” he replied. 

She laughed. “Do you think it’s the holiday or all of the cookies?”

“Probably a good mix of both.”

Rosie slid her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. “Probably.”

Delrin shifted a bit to accommodate her. “There was something I wanted to ask you, actually.”

She didn’t move away, but she did lift her head so she could see him. “Oh?” 

Delrin hadn’t been in South Reach a year, but Rosie always wondered just how long that would last. He had turned down his offer to join the Seekers, and that had been encouraging. She just wasn’t sure how long he really wanted to stay. He’d done so much, been so many places, he couldn’t possibly want to stay in South Reach forever. It was a conversation for later, much later. 

“I wondered, if you would accompany me to visit my family. I’d very much like them to meet you,” he said. His words were soft and quietly hopeful. 

She was surprised. “You want me to meet your family?” 

His family was a noble one, his father a Bann. She couldn’t imagine that they would be terribly impressed with a farm girl from South Reach. 

“Very much so. I’ve met your family, and we should do some of this correctly,” he replied. She laughed, they certainly had done things a bit out of order. Though Maker preserve her, she couldn’t find it in her to care. 

She took a deep breath. “I doubt that I’m who they envisioned for you.”

Barris chuckled. “Well, I doubt they ever envisioned me with anyone. Templars don’t often marry.”

She leaned into him, suddenly finding it hard to look at him. “You know what I mean.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “They’ll love you, and I owe them a visit. Say you’ll come.”

She was still unsure, not quite believing his optimism. “I’d go anywhere with you, Delrin.”

It was true, and she wanted him to know that. He rested his head on hers. “I’ve already talked to Cullen about my leaving. I was thinking sometime in the next two weeks or so. The clinic should be able to spare me then. Is that alright?”

“Gives me just enough time to stress about meeting your family,”she teased. 

“Don’t. I know you’ve met nobles before, but they’re not snobby. I promise. If anything they’re happy I finally carved out my own path.” 

“But are you happy?” she asked. She told herself not to be afraid of the answer, that all of those easy smiles meant he was.  

Delrin pulled her closer. “Maker, yes.” 

She was too, and in all she’d learned she knew that wasn’t something to take for granted. They were happy, and for now, it was all that mattered.


	15. Freezing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SaibraRutherford sent this prompt: I know you'll feel this prompt, for your choice of OC: "I'm freezing!" "It's the beginning of Justinian!" "The weather is unseasonably cold and you are freakishly warm."
> 
>  
> 
> You didn’t specify a pairing or AU, and I haven’t written near enough of Reparation Cullen and Mara lately, so that’s what I went with. This would fall just a few weeks after Things Learned. 600 words, Cullen’s POV.

It was a beautiful evening. The stars twinkled brightly above them, and Cullen mapped out the constellations he knew as he and Mara walked along the road. The dirt and gravel crunched below their feet as the moons rose up high over South Reach. 

Mara was clutching tightly to his hand as they walked, moving slowly and silently through the night. They’d been at Mia’s all evening. Mia insisted on a family dinner every other week. Their numbers had been fewer than usual due to Rosalie and Barris being away visiting Barris’s family, but still the dinners continued. It was a small miracle, just how normal it all was to get the family together and how perfectly Mara had always fit. Like she should have been there all along. 

Beside him she shivered. “Are you cold?”

“I’m freezing!” she laughed, shuddering into her light coat. 

“It’s the beginning of Justinian!” It was a beautiful night, and sure it was a little chillier than usual, but it wasn’t  _ that _ cold. 

He could see her scowl in the moonlight. “The weather is unseasonably cold and you are freakishly warm.”

“You know that isn’t always true,” Cullen said as he wrapped an arm around her. 

She melted against him. “That’s true, this winter your feet were weapons.”

He smiled against her hair. “Yes, well your ass is always cold in the winter, and you used it as  weapon more than once.”

She laughed. “Fair point.”

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked. 

Mara nodded. “Of course. Why?”

“I just...I never thought about if it bothered you going over so often or anything,” Cullen admitted. 

“They’re my family too, or will be in two months at least.” She beamed up at him. 

And thank the Maker for that. He’d only asked a month or so earlier, but their engagement seemed to be crawling by. He wanted to be married, was surprised just how much it mattered. 

He tightened his hold on her. “No qualifiers. They are, or at least they’ve adopted you.”

“Whether I like it or not?” 

“Most days I’m pretty sure they like you better than me,” he replied. He meant it. His family loved him, that had been proven time and time again. But with Mara, there was no complicated past. No baggage. 

“That’s only because you never let Mia win at chess,” Mara teased. 

He let go of Mara, putting a few feet between them in mock offense. “I worked so very hard to beat her, I cannot believe you would even suggest that I let her win.”

Mara rolled her eyes, burrowing into his side. “I take it back. Let me be warm again.”

He pulled her back into his side. “Is that all I’ve got to do to get you on my side? Take the warmth away?”

“Apparently.” Mara pinched his side and he squirmed. 

They were nearly back at the estate. He knew they would go through the evening rounds before finding their way to sleep. It was still a marvel, that his life existed like this at all. The quiet. The perfection of it all. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. 

He knew she was scowling again. “I’m going to have to get better at fire spells.”

He kissed her hair. “Whatever you say.”

They moved apart as they entered the estate, and Mara offered him a smile as they went about their responsibilities for the evening. He made his way up the stairs, feeling like the luckiest man in Thedas. 


	16. Lights in the Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen Appreciation Week Day 1: Cullen as a templar.

Cullen isn’t sure when the circle began feeling like a cage, but it has. It doesn’t help that Meredith’s rule borders on tyrannical. Or maybe it does. He’s hardly sure these days. 

But he knows what a cage feels like, and the Gallows is it. The feeling was almost imperceptible at first - the growing dislike turned into full blown loathing. He can’t even say when it began, only that the flaming sword no longer seems a mercy, but a judgement. He takes every opportunity to leave with too much enthusiasm, just for the chance to breathe freely again. 

And then come these thoughts, quiet whispers, unbidden. They claw and rage as he tries to put them down, but some days they are stronger. They ask questions he doesn’t want to think about, things he’s vowed not to. What if leaving wasn’t an option? What might he do for a gulp of air untinged by the Gallows? What if he were a mage and sentenced to a life behind high stone walls? Each mage they capture has this look, and it’s one he knows well, betrayed by their own bodies their eyes are haunted, fearful. He is not unaware that all that separates him from his charges is the Maker’s will - whatever that is. 

His armor feels heavy. Not like it did as a new recruit, all righteous duty and faithful service. No, it has grown heavy with something rancid. He longs for those quiet hours in his quarters when he removes the plate and becomes in the darkness, Cullen. Just Cullen. In those long hours of night, he barely sleeps, but he is himself and that is something more than he has felt in years. 

Cullen has two types of mornings now, if he manages to sleep at all. Or perhaps it is just one kind, since they almost always start with old fears haunting, with nightmares that are never far away. There’s something about the still dark blue hours that draws them. He does not wake surprised anymore, he at least manages not to give them that. 

Each morning, he finds himself reciting his prayers, and sometimes he feels them. Feels that sense of duty, that faith burning brightly. But more often he finds himself wondering, wandering. Is this truly what the Maker intended? This world, this life, this cage? 

It doesn’t matter how the morning begins, the ritual before he leaves his quarters is the same. He reaches with a shaking hand for his philter, and wonders not for the first time, if once your sacrifices are made, if you are leashed until the day you die? Templars. Mages. The cage is different, but they are confined all the same. 

He intercedes when he dares, which isn’t often enough. Meredith’s punishments are far too harsh, but he can’t look any mage in the eye now. He sees a reflection of himself, that longing for freedom, for a gulp of fresh air beyond stone walls. Following orders was easier when he believed they weren’t like him. Some days he still believes that they aren’t.  

When the Chantry explodes and Meredith plays her hand and challenges Hawke, a part of him - the part that he is when darkness falls - screams and thrashes for him to do  _ something _ . He swore to protect, and he has not done enough. Never enough. He wonders if Cullen and Knight-Captain Cullen can exist in the same armor, same space. His sense of duty toils with his heart, but it wasn’t duty that sustained him in Kinloch and it won’t due to rely on that now. He turns his sword on Meredith. 

It is hardly enough, but it is something. 

Kirkwall is in chaos, he would have left if he could. To where he’s not sure, but then there’s no one else to keep order, to keep people safe. And after all, isn’t that what he vowed to do? As Kirkwall settles, the more lost he becomes, and when Seeker Pentaghast arrives it is almost as if she is Maker sent. She comes at the behest of the Divine, so maybe she is, though he’s hardly worthy of the Maker’s hand. 

She offers him a different path. It is his heart he listens to again, hopes with and yearns with. He sets aside the templar armor, he’s not sure if he’s unworthy of it now or if it just doesn’t fit right anymore, but he leaves it behind all the same. The vambraces he keeps, strapped to his forearms like promises. They are a reminder too, of where he was, who he was, and who he is trying to be. The Divine intends to build a new world, and he wants to be part of it. To protect, but to ensure something too. 

No more cages. For anyone. 


	17. The Trouble with Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for day 2 of Cullavellan Week. Cullen and Mia talk about home.

The road to South Reach stretched out in front of Cullen, long and dusty in the summer heat. The sun was beginning to set, taking most of the heat with it. The sky was streaked in orange and purple, the clouds refracting the light as they shifted over the tall peaks of the mountains. It was still early enough in the summer that everything was still green, and snow still dusted the highest of the peaks. 

It was just him and Mia walking along the road, but David, Bran’s mabari, padded along beside them. Mia had needed to run into town to pick up a new tool she’d ordered from Denerim. Cullen and Mara had been over for dinner, something that was becoming a weekly occurrence and so he’d gone too. 

He hadn’t had as much time to talk to Mia as he would have liked since they’d gotten back from Ostwick. He was trying, and he could tell that Mia knew that. She’d been so relieved when they’d gotten home, and he hadn’t had the chance to talk to her about it. He couldn’t blame her though. He knew why. Besides Denerim, the last time he’d said goodbye, he hadn’t seen his family in twenty years. The worry was more than deserved. 

“You’re quiet,” Mia said, arm bumping his as they walked. 

Cullen’s hand flew to his neck. “My apologies, I was just caught up in my thoughts.” 

Mia nodded, blue eyes too understanding. He glanced away unable to bear the weight of it. “You’ve got quite a lot on your plate right now. Between a wedding and another group arriving.”

Cullen couldn’t hold back a smile. “My plate has been more full, and with things much less exciting.”

Mia laughed. “I know. Everything is alright though?” 

“Yes. I could ask you the same thing. We haven’t had a chance to really talk since I got back.” Cullen kept his eyes on the road, it was easier than face his sister. They were learning to have the tough conversations. He had more learning to do than she did, but old habits ran deep. It was altogether too easy to gloss over the things that bothered them. There was no healing there though; that much, Cullen had learned. 

“Oh, everything is alright. I was worried while you were away though,” Mia admitted. 

“About?”

Mia shrugged. “That you’d find that the world needed to be saved again or something. That you’d get delayed. Something.” 

And there it was. The reason behind all of that relief. 

“I think I’ve had my fill of saving the world. Quiet life for me from now on, I think.” Cullen meant every word. The Inquisition had saved him, and given him purpose. And yet, he believed he’d earned the quiet. And for someone who didn’t believe he was deserving of much, that was a big deal. 

“Running the clinic counts as quiet?” Mia asked with a smile. 

“As quiet as it’ll ever get, I suppose.” 

They didn’t speak for a moment, the only sound between them the crunching of the gravel beneath their feet. 

Then Mia spoke, words quiet and filled with so much hope it nearly broke him. “I’m so glad you’re making your home here.”

Cullen chanced a look at his sister, and realized the mistake he’d made when he saw her eyes were misty. It suddenly became very hard to swallow. “This is home.” 

Home had been somewhat complicated. Even after he left, Honnleath was home. After the Blight and his family leaving, it was still the only home he’d ever known. The Circles he lived in had been familiar, but not home. Skyhold had filled that void for a while, but nothing had felt as permanent or right as South Reach. It was where his family was, and he’d longed for it on those long nights crossing the Waking Sea. And of course there was Mara too. Home was even more complicated for her. And yet, South Reach had become hers too. 

Mia’s arm wound around his waist and he slipped his arm around her shoulders as they walked. “I’m so so glad to hear that.” 

“I went back to Honnleath, once,” he said, voice quiet and years back. 

Mia twisted to look at him. “You did?”

He nodded. “A few years ago. I don’t know what I was expecting, or hoping to find there. I remember standing on the dock of the lake, and wishing desperately for it to be the same. It just wasn’t.” 

He’d hardly allowed himself to think on it. The trip had been nice, a brief reprieve for him and Lorraine. But now that it was no longer gilded in sentiment and emotion, he remembered the disappointment he’d felt. He’d dreamt of returning to Honnleath, of that homesick feeling finally being banished by going back, by seeing what life had been. There was no such magic in Honnleath. It didn’t live up to the ghostly memories that were nearly twenty years old. 

“We’ve gone back, a few times. Visit mum and dad’s graves. Bran and Rosie and I tell stories the whole way, but going back just isn’t the same. We haven’t gone in a few years. It just…” her words trailed off. 

“It isn’t home,” Cullen finished for her. 

Mia nodded. “And I feel guilty about that. That the place where we grew up and where we had mum and dad and each other just doesn’t mean as much as it feels like it should.” 

Cullen understood the feeling. The guilt. “I think mum and dad would be happy you’ve built us a home here, together.” 

“That we’re all here, together.” Mia sucked in a breath, steadying herself. 

Cullen tightened his hold on her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. “You’ve done good.” 

Mia angrily wiped at her eyes. “So, what else needs to be done on that cottage of yours?”

Cullen didn’t call her out on the subject change, didn’t push. They were going to be okay. That much he knew. 


	18. Always and Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've just been thinking about Sera and Cullen and friendship and what things were like at the Winter Palace before Reparation. 1300 words, Cullen's POV.

The Winter Palace was just as Cullen remembered it, polished and boasting, yet festering beneath the weight of the game. The Inquisition teetered in the balance, and yet, he was happy to see his friends again. Skyhold had felt too empty in the last few months. Oh everyone had passed through here and there, but it wasn’t the same, and wouldn’t ever be if the council went the way he believed it would. 

Things seemed to be going from bad to worse, but there was nothing to be done at the moment. The Inquisition was gathered at the tavern, Bull and the Chargers providing the entertainment while everyone drank. It was getting crowded in the tavern, and even though Cullen had been glad to spend some time with Dorian, he needed some air. 

The Winter Palace had seemed like a maze the last time he was there, inescapable. It wasn’t quite as bad this time around. Sure, he’d still had to dodge one too many questions about his personal life, but he’d been largely left alone. He suspected it was Leliana’s doing, and he needed to thank here if he ever saw her. Being Divine didn’t offer much in the way of free time. 

The stars were twinkling to life above him, and he found some steps that led to a balcony overlooking the hills beyond. He took a seat, relishing in the quiet and the stillness. Orlais was sort of pretty if one looked hard enough he supposed. Even the Winter Palace wasn’t so bad in the quiet of the night. 

“You look almost peaceful,” Cassandra’s voice called from behind him. 

He turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Almost?”

“It is Orlais,” Cassandra chuckled. 

He couldn’t help but laugh; she knew him too well. What a blessing that was. He’d committed to the Inquisition because it was the right thing to do, and because he had to try to right the wrongs he’d done, but he’d never expected or felt as if he deserved the friendships that had come along with it. 

“We haven’t had the chance to really catch up,” Cassandra commented as she took a seat beside him on the marble steps. 

“A political summit will do that,” he replied. 

Cassandra smiled. “Indeed. How have you been?” 

He knew what she was asking without her asking it. It was the unasked question from all of his friends. Lorraine had announced her engagement a month prior. It really hadn’t been a surprise, but it had stung more than he thought it would. It wasn’t that he was still in love with her, no, but it was everything else. It was all of the might have beens that still haunted him. It was ridiculous. She was happy, and wasn’t that what mattered? 

“I’m well,” Cullen said. “And you, you’ve been reorganizing the Seekers?” 

Cassandra nodded. “Slowly. I’ve managed to find a few of my former comrades who’d scattered to the winds. Some of them were unsuitable, and I did not ask them to return. Other’s felt as I did once they read the Lord Seeker’s tome. We’ve since recruited a few candidates that are going through training now, with full disclosure.”

“I cannot imagine anyone better to lead them,” Cullen answered. 

Cassandra shook her head. “I can, but this has fallen to me and I will do my best. What about you, what happens next?”

Cullen wasn’t sure how to answer her. The truth was, he wasn’t sure. He had an idea, more of a hope really. Cassandra was doing so much good, and he wanted that for himself. He needed to do more good, and maybe it wouldn’t change anything maybe he’d done too much to blot out his wrongs. But today, it felt as if maybe it was worth trying. 

“I owe a long overdue visit to my family, and then...I wondered what if I opened a shelter for templars, helped them quit lyrium?” he glanced to Cassandra. She was as stalwart and strong as he hoped to be. 

She gave him a rare smile. “That sounds like a great idea, and I’m sure that Divine Victoria will think so too.”

It was like something had relaxed in his chest. “You really think so?”

She nodded. “I can’t imagine anyone better.” He could, but appreciated the sentiment, and at the risk of sounding like he was echoing her he didn’t respond. 

“I’ll talk to her, as soon as this is all over. It won’t be long now, and I think we both know that Lorraine won’t bow to either side,” he said, exchanging a meaningful look with Cassandra. 

“I know, she’ll end things on her own terms, no one else’s.” 

“Either way it goes, I don’t think that they’ll have much need of me after this,” he said. 

Cassandra looked out toward the horizon. “Perhaps not. Would you settle in South Reach?”

Cullen rubbed at his neck. “Seems as good a place as any.” 

“Cullen...I know this was not how you envisioned your future going-”

He cut her off. “Cassandra, I don’t know that I ever envisioned any future. Maker knows I never thought I’d live to see the day when Corypheus was defeated.”

Cassandra sighed. “I understand, but-”

He was saved Cassandra’s attempt to continue in that same vein by the wet smack of something against the wall next to Cassandra. Cassandra jumped up, immediately ready to battle whoever the perpetrator was. Cullen had one guess, and he was pretty sure he was right when he heard Sera’s cackling laugh somewhere above them. 

“I see you Sera! You know how long it took to get the last pie out of my armor?” Cassandra called, rushing down a nearby walkway in pursuit. 

He found himself chuckling as well, hoping at little that Sera might hit him with a pie and then he could just burn the Maker, forsaken uniform Josephine had insisted on. The elf in question plopped down beside him with a grin. 

“Hey, Cully.”

He was still proud he hadn’t jumped at her sudden appearance. She was constantly appearing when he least expected her. “Hello, Sera.”

“You going to tell Cassandra I’m here?” she asked, one eyebrow raised beneath unevenly cut bangs. 

Cullen hadn’t even considered it. “You hit a few Orlesians with some pies.”

Sera snorted. “You should have seen their faces, I mean they were mostly masked, but they were disgusted. Everyone needed it.” 

“I won’t say anything,” Cullen promised. 

Sera stretched out beside him, and he wondered for a moment if she’d been listening and timed her pie purposefully. “I won’t ask because everyone’s asking, but nobs in places like this? All they do is end things. You’re okay, though?”

No one ever gave Sera enough credit. She was odd, yes, a little abrupt too, but she knew how to care for the people she loved. And she read people better than she let on. Everyone else had asked him how he was doing in some thinly veiled attempt to know that he was okay, but here Sera was, asking. Maybe it didn’t matter to anyone else, but it mattered to him. 

“I will be. And you?” 

Sera leaned back to look at the stars and shrugged. “Everything changes. Always changing. I got Widdle though, and there’s plenty of nobs that need taking care of.” 

Cullen couldn’t help but smile, things were changing, but he hoped Sera never did. “I’m glad.” 

“What about you? Another army to run, orders to yell?” she asked. 

Cullen shook his head. “If I say yes, does that mean I’ll go out one day to find my training dummies full of bees again?”

Sera laughed, full hearted wheezing and wiping at her eyes. “Best times that.” 

He quietly hoped the very best were still to come. “Thank you, Sera.” 

She looked confused. “For what?”

“For being my friend.”

Sera nodded. “Always and ever, Cully. Always and ever.”


	19. What Was Gained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Satinalia Prompt from Mandojedi23.

For Delrin Barris, Satinalia was complicated. When he was younger, it had been quite the production, as those sort of things always were among the nobles. He’d hated it. It was one of the few times a year he was expected to dress up and play nice with all the “important people”. It had been strange going from the opulent celebrations to the simple, and often absence of celebration once he joined the Templars. 

The simple celebrations had always suited him best, but he did find when there was no celebration that he missed it. That had been rectified with the Inquisition. There had been a feast, a party, a tree, and plenty of alcohol. Still, Barris found he preferred the quiet togetherness of the Rutherfords. It also helped that Rosie was dozing on his shoulder. 

They were one of the last in the dining room, and Cullen and Mara had slipped out just a few minutes before. 

He pressed a kiss to her mess of curls. “Rose?”

She glanced up at him groggily. “Hmmm?”

“Shall we get you somewhere you can actually sleep?” he asked. 

She rubbed at her eyes, and then sat up suddenly as if remembering something. “Not yet. I have a surprise for you!”

“You do?” 

Rosie nodded, hand finding his. “Come with me.”

They made their way upstairs silently, and despite it not being the first time, Barris was very aware of everyone else in the house. They shut the door to his room, and he noticed a few presents, wrapped and beautiful sitting on his bed. Barris had gifted Rosie a sketchbook earlier in the evening, but this, this was all for him?

He must have looked a little unsure because Rosie gave his hand a squeeze. “They’re for you.”

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, you know,” he said. 

Rosie’s golden eyes were determined. “Yes, I did. You said you haven’t celebrated Satinalia like this for a long time. I thought I’d try to make up for those years you didn’t.”

And that was precisely why he loved her. He pulled her closer. “I can’t believe you did all of this for me.” 

She smiled up at him. “You haven’t even opened them yet!”

He kissed her. “Doesn’t matter. Still true.”

She pulled him down to the bed, sat beside him, and passed him the smaller of the two gifts. “Open this one first.”

So he did. As soon as he opened the box he could smell the caramelized sugar. “Toffee.” She had asked him about his favorite Satinalia memories, and he didn’t have many worth holding onto, but the toffee he grew up with? That was one of the good ones. 

Rosie kissed his cheek. “Made it all last night.” 

He wrapped his arm around her. “That was why you didn’t spend the night.” 

She nodded. “Hope it’s worth it.” 

The other parcel on the bed was much larger, wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string. It had some heft to it as well. “What in Maker’s name is this?”

Rosie just smiled. “Another something I’ve been working on.”

Barris opened the package to find a beautiful and soft quilt inside. The fabric pieces had been sewn together in star patterns. It was soft, and just the right weight. “You made this for me?” 

Rosie’s watched him with earnest intensity. “Do you like it?” 

“I….” he was feeling like he had somehow failed in giving her just a sketchbook. She had done all of this for him, and he’d done what felt like so little. “I love it.”

“My mum made one for all of us when we were born. After….Mia kept up the tradition with Clara, Liam, and Henry. But we talked, and we think it’s something that comes with being part of the family. So I made this one, and Mia is working on one for Mara,” Rosie explained. 

Barris cleared his throat, as if he could banish the emotion building there. “Thank you.”

He’d come to the clinic trying to cast off his dependency to lyrium, but he never realized what he stood to gain. A family. Rosalie. 

“I love you,” he said, words soft, promising.

Rosalie grinned. “I love you too.” 

Then he wrapped them both in the quilt she had made, and he held her as they watched the snow fall outside the window. 


	20. Gift of Remembering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @baigonage requested some Rosalie and Barris fluff in Reparation, thank you for requesting the rarepair! And this went not quite as totally fluffy as I had hoped, but I still really like how it turned out. A long time ago I wrote Trees with Names for the Reparation AU, about some healing through tradition of planting trees for the dead. And it’s certainly not required reading, but I think it helps provide some context for where Barris is here. Barris’s POV, 600 words.

There were two ash trees not far from the estate. They sat atop a idyllic green hill, and from the top there was a good view of the surrounding valley and the mountains off in the distance. It was still early, the sun barely beginning to emerge from behind the mountains. The birds weren’t quite singing and the world was quiet. 

Barris made this trip more often than he’d admit, and in the years since the trees had been planted, they’d grown tall and strong. In the beginning, it was just the two. Now other trees dotted the hill, of all different kinds. Barris knew all of their names, remembered all of their stories. And the remembering was a gift, even on the days it didn’t feel that way. 

Every bit of this life was a gift, even when nightmares chased him from his home to this hilltop. They didn’t happen as often these days, and usually waking up beside Rosalie was enough of a balm on its own to chase away any lingering worries. This morning he’d left rather than stay in case he woke her. Rosie had never had trouble sleeping, but pregnancy had been hard on her. Any sleep she managed was a victory in itself. 

So he’d made the short trek from their home to the hilltop. He sat down amongst the young trees, in this place he called home, but one that had become the last stop on the journey for so many others. Not all of them were Templars though. The clinic had grown, and so too had its mission. 

“Thought you might be here.” 

Barris turned to find Rosie huffing a bit as she crested the hill. The long braid of her hair was wispy, loose from sleep. 

“I didn’t leave a note, hoping I’d be back before you woke up,” he confessed. 

She used him for support as she lowered herself to the ground to sit beside him, a hand on her rounded belly. “I sure wish you and your child would get on the same page with that.”

“Kicking again?” Barris asked, a little exasperated and a little in awe. 

Rosie nodded. “This one is nocturnal. I’m sure of it.”

Barris laughed. “We’ll have to break them of that as soon as we can.”

“You can, I’m going to be sleeping.” Rosie leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Rough night?”

Barris nodded. 

“Mara was right to make this place; it’s peaceful,” Rosie said. 

“And a good reminder,” Barris said quietly. 

“Of?”

Barris looked out over the trees, the way their leaves shook in the morning breeze. The sun was obscured by clouds that hung over the mountains, but shafts of sunlight sneaked out through the breaks. 

“What could have been.” 

Her hand found his, warm and solid. “And what isn’t.” 

He kissed her then. Grateful that whatever came, whatever was in front of them, they had each other. 

“Time for breakfast?” he asked. 

Rosie leaned against him. “If you think you can get me up off the ground.”

“I have faith in our teamwork,” he answered, pressing a kiss to her hair. 

Rosie sighed. “Maker, someone better.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “I love you.”

He never got tired of the way her golden eyes lit up each time he said those words. “I love you too.”

Hand in hand, they walked left the hillside behind, and Barris said a silent goodbye. 

**Author's Note:**

> What'd ya think? Let me know below!


End file.
